McKinley's Finest
by RavingBabbit
Summary: On the prowl for Furt/Kinn?  LJ Valentine's Day Drabble-a-thon prompt by measuringlife.  Skinned Knees.


**MCKINLEY'S FINEST**

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**Prompt: skinned knees**  
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Kurt knocked impatiently on the bathroom door, not liking the fact that he was the one waiting. This was unprecedented, and majorly annoying. "FINN. I swear if you fell asleep in the bath again..."

"The door's unlocked."

Kurt opened the door and went right for the mirror. He was due for a trim; the oil from the extra hair was causing him to blemish on his left temple. Finn's eyes met his in the mirror and Kurt arched his brow at his step-brother, who was sitting on the toilet, pants up and lid down.

Finn just looked like an un-housebroken puppy.

"I think you're doing it wrong, Finn honey."

"Shuddup," Finn muttered. He hiked up his basketball shorts, exposing his firm thighs. Which was not what Kurt had honed his eyes on, much. Kurt fixed his eyes appropriately on Finn's knees which glowed hot red where the grass stains and bruises ended.

"Ew. Infection much?" Now that Kurt looked closely, he could see where some gravel stuck to the raw skin. "Why haven't you even cleaned it?"

Finn sighed and slumped over in the toilet. He picked up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a wad of tissues in his hand. "It's going to suuuuuuuuuuuuuck, like a lot."

Kurt's brows knit together. "Well of course it's going to suck. You don't need to put that on a scrape. Sit tight and don't move." With that, Kurt sashayed out of the bathroom. After a couple minutes he returned with a sizable first aid kit.

"Whoa! What are you going to do with those!" Finn yelped.

The tweezers in Kurt's hand gleamed like sharp metal. "You have tiny tiny rocks lodged in your knees. I am going to pluck them out. Hold still or everyone will find out how much of a wimp McKinley's finest really is."

Finn covered his eyes through the twee-zing, which admittedly hadn't taken that much time. Probably Kurt had years of experience from doing his brows and stuff.

Behind the safety of the hand over his face, Finn heard the water running and felt the gentle swab of cotton soaked in warm water. The air smelled like some fruity kind of soap. Finn jumped when Kurt's warm hand settled on his leg.

"Sorry," Kurt muttered, and he made a visible attempt to clean Finn's knee faster without making any threatening eye contact.

Now that his hand wasn't shielding him, Finn couldn't ignore the sight of Kurt kneeling in front of him, between his knees. He swallowed the tension in his throat.

"It's fine, Kurt. Thanks I hate doing this for myself," Finn said. He tugged at the neck of his T-shirt, feeling hot and maybe a little guilty about his first instinct to close his legs and the second one to shove Kurt to the floor and retreat to the TV.

Kurt put down the washcloth and produced a tube of Neosporin and two huuuuge bandages from his first-aid kit.

"I told you, you don't put that-" Kurt waved a hand at the brown bottle full of liquid sting-"on a scraped knee. Hurts like a bitch and doesn't help you heal any faster. My mom always used warm water and soap, especially when Dad taught me how to ride a bike."

Kurt's voice was low and soft and the sigh he exhaled after that went up Finn's shorts and caressed Finn's leg gentler than Kurt's fingers. "There. All done. You're a free man."

Somehow, to Finn, Kurt looked littler than he usually did. Anyone at school would never believe Finn in a thousand years that the smart mouth diva could look vulnerable or, or defeated even. Finn hardly believed it, that Kurt could epitomize Sad staring at the floor, a far away look in his gray eyes.

Kurt made a confused noise as Finn put his fingers under his chin and leaned over and gave Kurt a very, very almost non-existent peck on the lips. To Finn, it probably felt like he was falling into gray pools for an eternity.

"Um, that was for- uhh, don't be down- thanks." Because miracles are fleeting, Finn Hudson squirmed out of his seat and shuffled out of the bathroom.

_'What?'_

Usually Kurt hated it when someone touched his face but...

_'Excuse me, what?'_

Then Kurt leaped to his feet and frantically studied his hideously flushed reflection. He was going on a date with Blaine tonight, what the hell!

* * *

"Sweet baby raptor Jesus this suuuuuuucks!" Finn bellowed as he swiftly dabbed the rubbing alcohol on his mangled knees.

His right knee, which he had favored during the fall, tingled unpleasantly after the intense stinging.

Kurt was thus treated to the favorable sight of Finn sitting on his bed, biting his crooked forefinger between his teeth. He looked like an overgrown teddy bear sucking on his paw.

"Really Finn? Didn't I just tell you not to do that," Kurt huffed. He was smiling however, and it made Finn feel less like the blushing fool. "Let me see what you're doing to yourself."

Kurt smoothed out the legs of his silk pajamas to avoid wrinkling them on the floor in the process of kneeling. "Poor baby."

Finn's throat dried out as Kurt, without taking his gaze off of Finn's wide eye, pursed his pink lips and blew gently on each knee. His hot breath cooled the rubbing alcohol on Finn's knees and he was leaning closer to-

Finn put a stop to it, curling his large fingers firmly over Kurt's shoulders. The smaller boy wasn't perturbed, blinking his eyes in a slow, deliberate way that somehow fluttered his lashes. "Why Finn, don't you want me to kiss it better?"

Yes. Finn's lips were narrow and there was that tightness in his chest, a physical warning to Finn that he was on the verge of making a decision. Kurt had seemed to make his already, curling his fingers lightly over Finn's hitched up shorts. He was leaning in again, and Finn stopped him a second time before he could kiss Finn's knees.

"Not there," Finn said, and it sounded small.

"Oh? Where else does it... ache?" That was seriously the lowest and deepest he'd ever heard Kurt's voice go. It was a man's voice and it had Finn taking notice.

"Where..." Kurt leaned in until the heat radiating from his silk jammies seared the bigger boy's shins, and he trailed that mouth of his up the sensitive, inner flesh of Finn's lap that could feel Kurt's tongue flicking through the thin fabric of the shorts as he teased Finn with a question that would have been innocent coming from anyone else. "Where else does it... hurt?"

Breathing hitched, Finn grabbed Kurt's hair and tugged on it, almost forcing Kurt's head back as he crushed his mouth solidly onto Kurt's parted lips. He moaned into Kurt's mouth as the boy's pale hands pushed his legs apart and stroked his half-hard cock straining under the soft, stretchy fabric that was totally in the way.

"Ah, ah my god," Finn panted when Kurt broke the kiss and nuzzled his face into Finn's crotch. If he could have moved, he would have ripped his shorts off just to feel for himself how soft and wet Kurt's mouth could be.

Kurt managed to grip him through the fabric, which did nothing to hide the shape of his cock standing at attention. Kurt opened wide and the glorious cavern that was his mouth puckered hotly as he sucked Finn through his shorts. Kurt was halfway down when Finn bucked his hips and came wildly. It soaked through his shorts and Kurt just wouldn't let up, just humming and sucking and trying to get a taste.

This was a nightmare, it was worse than if Finn was wearing a condom.

Finn flinched awake as someone tentatively padded down the steps of the basement.

Finn kept his eyes shut and was too dazed and ashamed and frozen under the hope that despite the dark, despite the layers of covers, Kurt's pretty eyes could see right through him. And see a scared boy who just wet his bed.

* * *

The hour was very, very late and kind of not what Burt had given Kurt permission to be out, alone, with his dapper new boyfriend. He was going to get hell for it, but Kurt decided that he would take the penalties. Blaine had taken him to a restaurant where the staff all knew him and he blurted out that he loved Kurt when they were served the tiramisu and it almost made Kurt's fork miss his mouth by a long shot.

How could they not take a stroll through the garden attached to the restaurant afterward? While the vines were barren, the lights roped around the poles and the various arched canopies more than made up for the night. Truly, the broken curfew had not been spent in debauchery or wicked deeds so much as the innocent pleasure in each others' company.

Blaine had even sang to Kurt and twirled him underneath the stars one or two times before dipping him dangerously and stealing a light kiss. It was romance!

Kurt nearly giggled to himself as he floated down the basement stairs and used his cell phone to light his way to his bed. Fortunately, he was in the habit of setting aside his sleep clothes and tonight, extravagant as it was, that did not change.

Goosebumps rose all over his skin as Kurt stripped off his outer layers, but Kurt blamed the cold air. As soon as he was garbed for sleep, Kurt burrowed tiredly into his blankets. He could taste the sweetness of the tiramisu and Blaine's kiss. Which was a sign that he had to brush his teeth.

Sometimes, Kurt hated himself for being so fussy and not letting minor details like this pass into sweet, sweet dreams. He did his best not to wake the boy slumbering in the adjacent bed, and quietly tip-toed to the bathroom that Burt and Carole renovated quite recently in the basement. It was little more than a closet with a toilet and a sink, but Kurt was grateful despite having to tote his care products in a basket.

Clean up was simple. Fortunately, Kurt had not applied too much product in his hair. Blaine had taken full advantage of that, running his fingers through the naturally soft texture and it made Kurt seriously consider throwing out his hair spray. Almost.

"Oh, you romantic sap," Kurt cooed to himself in the mirror. He smiled at himself in the mirror and ran his finger tips indulgently over his lips.

Shaking off the night, Kurt opened the door, and quickly flicked off the lights, but a streak of light fell on Finn's face anyway and the boy flipped over to avoid it.

Which meant Finn was awake, and Kurt was tired, and kind of maybe thinking about the innocent little kiss Finn had inconveniently bequeathed the same hour Blaine picked him up.

"You awake?" Kurt whispered, hoping that he'd be ignored.

His tentative hopes to dash immediately to his bed fell as Finn flipped on to his back again. "Yah, I am. What's up?"

Best to make this quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Why did you kiss me?" Kurt asked, and it struck him that he'd had to ask another jock the same question.

"Oh, that. Did it mess up your date?"

"Absolutely not. Blaine's much, much better than you think." Kurt couldn't help but snap defensively. Then he relented. "I was distracted when the date started, however. Why did you do it, Finn? I know very well that you are not, and will never be, into me."

"I dunno, man. You were really great, and then you talked about your parents. I didn't know what else to do."

Finn would never understand the amount of tension that drained out of Kurt in that instant. Kurt smiled and finally retreated to his bed. "Thank you, Finn. You're getting a lot better at not being a jerk."

"Hmph," Finn grunted, flipping the pillow over his head.

"So let me guess, you were kissing it better?" Kurt chuckled, pleased with himself for flustering his stepbrother (payback) enough that Finn tossed his pillow in Kurt's general direction. The pillow bounced off the edge of Kurt's bed and flumped to the floor. Whether or not Finn appreciated it, he was a sweetheart underneath the temper and that thick skull.

Kurt drifted into an easy slumber as Finn waited for an eternity, then limped to the bathroom. He turned on the noisy fan.

* * *

As slow as Finn was sometimes, he disliked how his stepbrother was taking the risk of visiting McKinley during his winter recess from his private school.

Burt, as predicted, had pulled Kurt's driving privileges for coming home mega late, except to do grocery shopping and other no-fun errands. However, Carole had persuaded Burt to make a minor exception for today. Kurt needed to see his friends during lunch and study breaks. Finn had overheard Carole say to Burt,"At least you'll know where he is before he comes in [to the garage] to help."

Kurt made a note to allow his father an extra serving of beef tonight as he fiddled with his outfit. It felt so good to accessorize. He was channeling old Hollywood glam as he strutted into the choir room.

"Hello lovers," Kurt purred. He pulled his aviators off ever so coolly and hooked them on to his classic red scarf.

"KURT!" There was a flock of girls who came over to mess up his hair and cover his face with lip glossed smooches.

Puck, Mike, and Artie all exchanged insecure glances in heterosexual solidarity as the busty and leggy half of Glee Club swarmed around Kurt.

"Darlings, I missed you... who's wearing Wet 'n Wild?" He could feel his entire cheek coated with the sticky lip glitter.

"Me," Mercedes owned up to it. With a fierce scowl she picked Kurt up and squeezed him like a rag doll. "You got scrawnier, white boy."

"I'm not scrawny! Not all of us get the junk in the trunk," Kurt muttered. All the same, he held onto Mercedes in an equally tight embrace. "And who told you it's okay to pair broad horizontal stripes with small-print florals?"

Brittany sauntered up to the hugging pair, swiveling her upper body left to right in her excitement. Mercedes winked at Kurt and threw him at Brittany, who launched Kurt up into the air a couple times. "My sweet baby G!" Brittany exclaimed. She spun him around a couple of times, and let him wobble into Tina, who shyly hugged him around the shoulder and supported him as the room whirled in his vision.

"H-hey you." Tina cracked a true smile at him as she self-consciously brushed the rogue streaks out of her eyes.

"Your hair! Loves it!" Kurt briefly touched the strands, and then held his arms wide one more time for a group hug, this time for the guys, in an attempt at bromance. Santana pushed Kurt into Artie's lap and hugged his neck, knowing how uncomfortable her breasts (China-made?) would make him.

Finn watched the spectacle he totally saw coming, and thought that it was like someone ramped up the volume and the color on a TV screen. He hadn't seen Team Glee this alive since competition. Even Quinn and Lauren couldn't hide their pearly whites.

"Ahem."

The swarm dissipated, parting like the Red sea for a certain Jewish princess.

"We meet again, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. I believe you know what this entails."

The dudes rolled their eyes at the Elizabeth part.

"Miss Rachel Berry." His voice could have chipped diamonds. "I always bring it."

"Let's dance," Rachel challenged.

Puck, who happened to be strumming on a bass, played a vaguely Western-themed melody, the kind that signaled a stand-off.

On three, they drew... Rachel from under her belt (or under her skirt?) and Kurt from an unknown pocket of his spray-on jeans... their iPods.

As one, they gasped and started jumping up and down, their hands clasped together, hugging and squealing. "Oh my god, oh my god, I can't believe we sync*d!"

"We must do this," Kurt agreed. His feet were already tapping the floor in a practiced beat.

Sue Sylvester sighed, an omnipotent being in confidential parameters, deeply disappointed when instead of blood shed, Kurt and Rachel had themselves a toe-tapping, rollicking good time belting out Patti LuPone and Howard McGillin's "You're the Top!".

**"You're sublime,**

**You're turkey dinner,**

**You're the time, the time of a Derby winner**

**I'm a toy balloon that is fated soon to pop**

**But if, baby, I'm the bottom,**

**You're the top!"**

Rachel was gamely singing as Billy to Kurt (bitch stole Reno's lines before dibbs could be called).

The two divas quit tapping around the room and settled for a loose fox trot that somehow had Finn snagged in the middle of it, trapped between his domineering ex-girlfriend, his once infatuated stepbrother, and their obscenely powerful voices.

Glee club had already settled into their chairs, enjoying the show. Mr. Schue was pleasantly surprised-but not really surprised- to see that Kurt was present and causing a cheerful ruckus.

Finally, Finn decided that the best strategy was to stand there and take it, and think of the mail as Rachel's boobs flattened against his chest and Kurt's hips ground lightly into his backside.

Finn didn't know whether to laugh or moan, so he settled for both and fled the choir room when the noise stopped.

* * *

Finn was currently banging his head against his locker in the guy's changing room. Again and again and again. Thinking of the mail worked 99.99% of the time. Of course an impossible person, like Kurt, could hypothetically wiggle and dance all sexy-like into the 0.01% of the time that it wouldn't work.

No. Kurt was not sexy. If he wiggled, Finn most definitely never noticed. Not even a little bit. And the fact that Finn had run into the locker room to take a hasty, midday freezing cold shower had nothing to do with Kurt's wiggling whatsoever.

"C'mon, get your head on Hudson," Finn told himself as he plunked on to a bench and shoved his feet into his trainers. He shook himself, flicking the water off of his ears.

Someone banged obnoxiously on the swinging door of the changing room before striding in. "There you are! Didn't you get my text?" Kurt was looking somewhat out of breath and untidy with his scarf rumpled and his hair hanging slightly over his baby blue eye. Kurt compulsively flicked the hair into place before folding his arms and glaring down at Finn.

"I didn't," Finn said, keeping his words short. He wasn't good at lying, and worse at lying with more than three consecutive words. But it was easier to be dishonest than explaining the problem he'd had earlier that required a cure-all cold shower.

"Nonsense, you're always on your phone," Kurt said. "Since it takes forever for you to type on the tiny buttons."

Kurt sort of had a point.

"Maybe," Finn admitted, reluctantly. "How'd you know that?"

Kurt tugged at his scarf, which was the color of his neck when Finn latched on to something embarrassing he'd blurted out.

"I just know that about you," Kurt stated, shrugging.

"Really? What else do you notice, Kurt?" Finn told himself that he was teasing-not flirting-teasing his stepbrother because the little dude almost never lost his cool. Grinning, he raised one brow at Kurt, who had shifted his weight kinda nervously.

"It's cool man. Once you go Finn, you're always in." Finn cracked himself up sometimes.

Kurt stiffened at those words, and his blue eyes flashed like the hottest part of fire. "You are so full of it. Was going to play nice, but you know what?"

Uh oh.

Suddenly, instead of pacing, Kurt was prowling, and likely to close in. "What I really noticed today is you noticing me dancing up on you. You paid close attention..."

Finn really had to learn how to stop sitting with his legs wide open. Kurt wedged himself into Finn's personal space all too easily. "... and now you're here, wet behind the ears. Why, pray tell, did you feel the need to clean yourself?"

Kurt fluttered his lashes as he leaned in and breathed in deeply, biting his lip. "I liked how you smelled earlier."

He wasn't touching Finn, not really, but Finn was already finding it difficult to stop what clearly was going to go down (if what was going down was Kurt going down).

To his relief-not! disappointment-Kurt drew back and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Of course, it might not have been my body or my voice that enticed you. You did have that fling with Jew Berrymore."

"What was she singing about again, Finn?" Kurt smirked down at the bigger boy, in a clear challenge for Finn to prove that he was into chicks way, way, way before dicks.

"Um, something about turkey dinners," Finn muttered. He flushed pink when Kurt threw his head back and clapped, delighted.

"Oh Finny, you darling boy, of course you'd retain that detail. It's you."

"Always... ravenous."

Finn's head spun from the random directions that Kurt spoke in. One second Kurt sounded okay, and then he'd make Finn super uncomfortable.

And then there was now, when he made Finn feel, kinda good.

**"You're the Nile! You're the Tow'r of Pisa.**

**You're the smile on the Mona Lisa..."**

Because this was Kurt, he wasn't standing still, singing show tunes at Finn. Kurt did jazz hands at "nile" and "smile." Kurt reached up to the sky as the "Tow'r of Pisa", in a way that made his shirt hike up and expose his firm stomach. Still holding that pose at "Mona Lisa", Kurt winked and tossed a carefree smile that was much better to look at than moldy, old paintings.

Finn suspected that Kurt's rendition of the song wasn't quite kosher (like, Rach would flip if she heard how slowly he was drawing out the lyrics). Oh well.

**"I'm a worthless check, a total wreck..."** Kurt relaxed his arms, bending his elbows and mussing his hair a little where he put his hands... and he went low to the floor, and popped his hips in a way that made Finn's right hand twitch.

**"... a flop! But if baby**...oh Finny..."

Kurt slid onto his stepbrother's lap, and breathed the last of the lyrics, and it wasn't music so much as _humid sex_ to Finn's wet ear. **"I'm the bottom, you're the top!"**

He was outright grinding at this point, gripping the ends of a red scarf that he'd swung behind Finn's neck, not giving a crap that he was stretching the cotton. Finn gladly dug his fingers into that firm ass, palming those liquid hips that fit so fucking perfectly.

Then Finn felt a sharp pain in his right knee, where Lauren Sczices had slapped her binder. Finn cursed as he regained consciousness, largely owing to the edge of the binder picking off the scab healed over the scrape Kurt had bandaged for him awhile ago.

"WHAT!" Finn hollered.

He woke up a little more to a bunch of people laughing at him. Oh yeah. Choir room. Boring song. Yawn.

"Bro, you were singing that stupid song in your sleep," Puck said, snorting. He had his arm over Lauren's shoulder, despite her scowl.

"Huh," Finn grunted. He tried to discreetly wipe his mouth, which had a little bit of drool on one side, couldn't imagine why.

"Queer boy peaced out with Mercedes," Puck told Finn unhelpfully. "He texted you."

"Huh," Finn grunted. He put his face in his hands, too frazzled to object to Puck's total breech of privacy. Finn knew when to call a spade a goddamn spade; he was beyond help.

He needed intervention.

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**END**

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A/N: I don't own Glee. I don't own "You're the Top!" I don't own Kurt's sexy! range. This was from a Valentine's Drabble-a-thon prompt by measuringlife. As you can see, it grew, LOL.

I'm stopping it here. Just to be clear. Cool beans?


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